Unbidden
by javachino
Summary: After learning of the plans that the Circle of Black Thorn had in mind, Buffy became slightly disturbed that Angel was a part of it all. Mishaps, enemies, old friends, angst and pain await the readers of this untimely tale. To be post Chosen: NFA beginnin
1. A Bajillion Reasons Why

**Unbidden**

_The Lore of a Demonic Pretension_

**Summary: **_(Will be a post Chosen/NFA) After discovering of the plans that the Circle of Black Thorn had in mind, Buffy became slightly disturbed- especially at the thought that Angel was a part of it all. After running him and the vampire known as Spike, whom she had believed to be dead (well, non-existent since he was actually undead), on a wild goose chase she was unable to confirm the worst of her fears. The only way to quell her thoughts and sleepless nights would be to arrive in LA herself and pick a side in the apocalyptic battle. Mishaps, enemies, old friends, angst and pain await the readers of this untimely tale. The question begs, however... what side is really the good side?_

_**Prequel: **_Yeah there was a prequel to this, but it still needs a bit of tweaking- I apologize for the horrendous state it MAY be in at the moment, but oh well... it's life. It's called Surrender it All. You don't _need _to read SiA in order to understand this story, and anything mentioned in SiA may be referred back to in a little note for your convenience (although it may save you a couple -GASP-s and -HUH?-s along the way). Happy reading!

_-This is set right after The Girl in Question and does NOT follow the comics._

**Spoilers: **Pretty much, if you have not seen all of BtVS/AtS you may be able to survive through this story but I have a question- WHY HAVEN'T YOU? heh. Spoilers in this fic can ruin just about any season for you, since I have a tendency to make webbed-references to many different episodes throughout my drabble. If you're afraid of figuring something out that you may not know yet, this is not the story for you to read.

**Notes: **So this plot has the potential to go virtually anywhere. The pairings will not be listed on the basis that, well, I have not decided those yet. I like to stick as close to cannon as possible, but you never know... I cannot stress enough how important the input is from my audiences. You guys keep me motivated, give me useful suggestions, and make me smile (well, or fume, but usually the smile-factor is more dominant).

Disclamulation: I own no character that you are able to recognize. Joss does. I do not own Sunnydale, its inhabitants, the Hellmouth, or any other related indicia. The plot is my own, as are a couple random things and character(s). This is strictly-not-for-profit. Entertainment only. You wanna use it? Cool. Give me credit and please tell me. Thanks. 

**Beta: **Danielle. You make life great.

**Chapter One: A Bajillion Reasons Why**

_5/5/04 Africa- Lagos, Nigeria 07:44:22_

"Wake up, Xander... you can't stay in here and dream forever. Besides, your dreams are peculiar and mildly disturbing." Anya held a clipboard in her arms and she was staring down at it as if inspecting it for something in particular.

"Anya?" Xander struggled to sit up in bed, terrified at the being before him, "Y-You're alive?"

"Of course not, stupid. I died, remember?" She cocked her head to the side, "You know, there was me... and Andrew... and then there was this Bringer," Her voice seemed to drift away in careless thought as she heaved a sigh, proceeding with the rest of her explanation casually as if it were an everyday occurence, "... oh, awful pain... a flash of light..." She nodded in affirmation of the broken tale she had just explained, "-I went towards the light." After the explanation, she looked back down at the clipboard, her face screwing up in a confused expression. 

Xander could not believe his ears. Or his eyes, for that matter, "You went towards the-"

"Are you gonna dig soon?" Anya cut off his inquiry and asked her own question in a demanding manner (only characteristic to herself). 

"Dig? Wha?... Anya, why are you here?" He demanded of the figure that had suddenly sent his heart racing helplessly.

"I was looking through your personal belongings... I wanted to find something incriminating..." Her voice became all the more thoughtful, as if the next suggestion was some brilliant idea of hers, "like blackmail. For later. When you do something brainless, and I feel like getting back at you..." She placed her hands on her hips after folding the clipboard under her arm and just stared at Xander with frustration, "When are you going to dig again?"

Xander shook his head, "I don't..."

"I mean, come on... it's not my fault you... you stopped seeing things o-or... that you tried to push away your friends. Just because it was Buffy's stupid idea to pair me with Andrew doesn't give you license to hate."

"Stopped seeing things? A-and it's not Buffy's fault!" Xander's voice cracked slightly when he offered her a quiet response. It was not what she had said that had got him worked up, he definitely did not blame Buffy for the death of Anya, but just the reminder of the event seemed to trigger an unexplainable sadness. Having something like that brought to his supposedly 'stable' exterior was something Xander would rather not admit to. He was supposed to be the support, the level-headed one... the guy that told everybody else that 'it would be alright.' He never felt that he would be the one needing the moral support.

"Maybe you should start digging again. You look sexier that way," Anya suggested, turning around now and beginning to walk away. 

"What? Anya- wait!" Sure, she had a one-track mind at times, but Anya was not really making any sense. Not as far as Xander was concerned. 

Anya froze at the tinge of desperation in his voice. She heaved a sigh and turned around once more to face him, looking helpless and distraught as ever. Anya shook her head, "I can't help you, Xander," she affirmed with a hint of depression hidden behind her voice, "You have to do this on your own." With that, Anya turned back around and Xander stared hopelessly in disbelief at her receeding and fading form. Was it really her? Was it really Anya?

Then he was brought back to the bitter realization of what happened to be real life. An alarm resounded through the entire room, screaming in his head to get up, he had work to do. "That... was so strange," Xander muttered to himself, walking over to ready himself for yet another day. She was so real. It was time, however, high time that Xander made things right. There were fences to mend and grudges to set aside, but something was coming. They would need each other in this upcoming struggle. He knew what he had to do, sort of... but getting it done, however, that was a whole different story. Luckily, he now had a slayer on _his_ side for once. Not that it was not like Buffy was never on his side- but this one... she was different. She fought with everything she had and drew her strength from the depths of his words and the core of his knowledge- his determination.

The city of Lagos was a more relieving escape from the once homey city of Sunnydale. It was larger, yes, and surprisingly more developed than he had expected when he had been given his charge. Either way, it had been his home for the past year after the defeat of The First's armies and the Turok-Han. Lagos still was a town of problems, however. The city was not too big on the tourism practices, yet did quite well as far as business was concerned. The city held a dangerous reputation, however. What the people did not know, though, was the actual cause of the danger. Xander did. As did the slayer he had been charged with here in Lagos, Kumani. With steadfast endurance and an unfaltering fist, she was able to defeat everything thrown at her. She fought with such fierce fury, that it was no wonder her name was the uncanny parallel to the word 'Destiny.' She knew where she belonged and where her place was as a slayer and boy, she knew how to fight.

...It was months ago, actually. The fight with Buffy. Xander had been able to tolerate the fact that Angel had went all monopolistic and settled his deadboy ass into the seat of a multi-million-dollar corporation that had access to virtually all that was evil on the entire planet (and alternate universes to boot). In fact, the man even thought he had done a splendid job in keeping his mouth shut, grudges and feelings to himself, and shying away from the subject. So he kept off the subject that in any way had anything to do with Angel. The Immortal was where she crossed the line.

The young man looked painfully older than his current age of twenty-three due to the many fights, brawls, toils, and tortures that he had endeavored to get this far. None of the pain he had encountered, none of the hurt or the experiences, however, had ever caused him to lose faith in his friends. He stood strong through both thick and thin, even stuck by them on the ups and downs and the roller-coaster that led the Scoobies to bury a few friends and allies along the way. It was harder than he cared to admit, yet never once did he ever complain that his teenage years (and everything that followed) had been ripped off by the forces of evil. He would do it all over again if he had to. Xander froze abruptly when a knock at his door haulted his morning ritual. Opening the door to reveal an elder englishman in a brown suit, Xander immediately knew there was trouble. There was no reason they would send a watcher to him in person unless there was some kind of grave danger.

"Alexander Harris?" The man adorned in tweed stood at his door with an unwavering and stiff air of urgency, "We have a situation."

"Oh God."

----

Buffy sat in the apartment hugging her knees. She was alone again. The apartment was a mess and, despite Andrew's consistent ploy to purge the apartment of all the candles and anything that even remotely reminded her of her own isolation or her previous faux-obsession with the Immortal, the Slayer still managed to find a bound leather book and run her fingers across it sadly. Inside it held everything that she had tried to hide from the world, every feeling and every explanation of the harder battles she fought. The dimly lit apartment seemed to cheer her up, regardless of the fact that it was bright and sunny outside, she preferred the indoors. Everything was falling apart and she did not quite understand why. Dawn was around, occasionally, but she was busy getting educated or usually hanging with Giles which, Buffy always quipped, could not possibly be healthy for her vocabulary or social habits. There was next to no time for sisterly bonding anymore. Dawn was growing up, becoming a more accomplished woman than Buffy ever felt she herself could ever become- even before her shoulders bore the weight of the world across them. But everything has been ripped from her. Her future was 'The Chosen One.'

Her best friend and the most outstanding wicca of them all, Willow, had left to go and deal with matters that really just caused Buffy's head to spin. The coven had her working like crazy lately. Willow willingly bent over backwards to their every beckon and call, and rightfully so. There was a sore spot that the witch got undeniably angry whenever the subject was brought up, and that was an occurence and supposed brawl between her and Kennedy. What had happened that fateful night was still a leaf left unturned. Buffy would not admit it, but Willow's hesitation to talk to her sliced deeper than she cared to admit. She wanted in on her friends' lives... not isolation from them.

Andrew had been living with them for quite some time now and Buffy had to admit... he may be a nerd but at least he was all in good company at times. Today was different, though, she could feel it. He just walked in the door from his date with two rather formal looking women. He offered the slayer a quick once over and sighed, "Rough day?" At her nod, the boy shook his head, walking into the apartment and shutting the door quietly, as if the noise from slamming it would have woken the dead.

"Xander called," Andrew mentioned casually, "I did what you said and told him you died again. He got kinda pissy."

Buffy raised a questioning brow at the young man, as if offering him to spill the truth. "Andrew, don't lie to me."

"Fine fine... He was very intimidating and demanding and I didn't exactly know what to tell him soooo I told him you weren't here and that you wouldn't be back for a while and maybe if he wanted to leave a message that maybe I'd kinda see if it'd hopefully get back to probably Buffy o-or someone important but he didn't seem too thrilled with that answer. He kinda made it clear he wanted to talk just to you..."

Buffy sighed, defeated. Who was she kidding? She herself had severed the ties with Xander... what seemed like forever ago. Things had not been right between them for months, so why now was she so surprised to hear that perhaps he had called to say he was still alive? To say he still cared? "Do you know where Dawn is?" Buffy inquired, looking up with hopeful eyes.

"Uh, nope- she didn't say. I know something that'll cheer you up!" Andrew smirked, resting a finger on his chin for a few moments before pointing it up in the air in triumph and briskly walking towards the DVD player. "Luke Skywalker and-"

"Not Star Wars," Buffy said while lying her head, defeated, on the end of the couch. "Ever wonder what it would have been like if I never came back? If I died for real- f-for good... for once?"

Andrew glanced over at the slayer who had recently become more of a friend to him since he had moved in to reduce the apartment costs. When in Rome, rent did not come cheaply, and the new Watcher's Council was still working on reforming in order to better serve the current slayers on Earth. He rose from his position before the stack of DVDs and walked over to Buffy, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Sometimes I do." He paused only briefly before adding continuing. "Those are my nightmares," Andrew said simply with a hint of wisdom behind his eyes that she would fail to catch for lack of meeting his eyes. 


	2. Faces Without Meaning

**Unbidden**

_The Lore of a Demonic Pretension_

**Notes: **See Chapter One if you want to read Disclaimer/Summary and all that Jazz.

**Current Beta: **Danielle (love to you! Here's to an annoying busride complete with screaming brats!)

**Chapter Two: Faces Without Meaning**

_USA- Cleveland, OH. 5/4/04 23:44:00_

Faith stood on the ledge of a building looking downward and breathing heavily. Well if it was not dead, than where was it? Her inner-question was soon answered, however, when a fist drove between her shoulders and sent her doubling to her knees. "You like it rough, I get it," she mumbled, shaking her head to rid herself of the apparent pain shocking through her system. "I'm just not in the mood tonight," Faith returned, hopping to her feet and landing a blow to the vampire's jaw. "I've been to _the_ Hellmouth. This place's Grandma's picnic compared to Sunny-D. Gee, I even was there to see it explode and all... but you vamps just keep comin' back, keep rising, and keep giving me a reason not to move back out to Boston." She grumbled as she smacked a roundhouse to his ribs and caused the vamp to howl with rage. "You just don't know when to quit, do ya? Sure, my name's not as crazy as 'Buffy' the vampire slayer, but B's pretty washed up right now. Be happy you get a little spar time with good ole Faith. Gotta love the pun to my name..."

The teaching... leading and all that stuff- it was not Faith's forte. Truthfully, she never actually trusted her own leadership after the run-on with Caleb's set up near the vineyard. It was that and the fact that the Hellmouth had also chosen to claim the life of Robin Wood along with its own memories that drove her to a madness which allowed her to remain behind from the Scooby excursion (well, more like migration) across the globe. She was rather quick to volunteer herself to the services of Cleveland, ready and willing to beat the 'living daylights' (or what remained of them) out of the walking undead with sheer revenge on her mind. Now, however, Faith was simply drawn into a dull state of boredom. The amateur Hellmouth had been quiet for weeks, nothing interesting seemed to be stirring up and, on top of it all... the closest people she had grown to remotely consider friends were on the other side of the globe. It was not long before she came to the conclusion that yes, she was alone yet again. This brief period reminiscing, however, would cost her dearly. It was now two against one.

Faith closed her eyes and winced in hopes that the fist sailing her way would not manage to clock her across the face. She was being held back by one vampire that she just could not seem to break free from, needless to say- she was struggling. Faith, of course, would not admit this little factoid to anyone. Not even -_SMACK_- The opposing vampire managed his feat. She nailed Faith in the nose, and the blood gushing from said nose now only fueled her anger. The slayer narrowed her eyes, ignoring her bleeding nose and bending herself forward carefully in an attempt to lob the vampire behind her forward. She would get out of this, definitely... she just wanted to spend a little time with the foreplay. Always the foreplay.

The vampire on her back emitted an angered howl as he was hoisted off the ground and onto her back, though he refused to let up on the grip around her neck. All of a sudden, however, the weight from her back disappeared and she became a rather unwilling ashtray. Within seconds, the other vampire's dust was also whirling away in the wind. The one responsible for dusting those two in record timing was a man Faith had never met before. He was wearing signature generic blue jeans and a black polo-shirt and although the collar was neatly folded, the top three buttons were all undone. A silvery chain hung around his neck, but whatever was on the chain was hidden behind his shirt. His hair was black, but his eyes were a mysteriously enchanting shade of green. He looked to be in his late teens or possibly early twenties, and the crooked smirk that crossed his face after he was clapping his hands together as if 'wiping off' the dust, reminded her vaguely of Angelus. Perhaps it was this very reason that caused something inside her to snap. Faith whipped around and threw her fist towards his stomach.

The man snapped his hand around her wrist before she was able to land a punch. "Well well well... Seems to me that somebody's forgotten their manners." He kept a firm hold on her arm, but continued to stare her in the eyes. There was a darkness inside of his that could not quite be understood, almost as if he was the one child at school that never had a puppy. His fangs, however justified, were not like vampire fangs. The rest of his dentition was fairly straight and, well, white. His fangs were only visibly elongated canines and nothing more. "Hold your punches, damn... I'm not a vampire."

"Y-You've got the fangs," Faith suggested with a heavy breath, narrowing her eyes and winding up for the punch. "Fair enough," she suggested choppily as she sent her fist sailing towards his face.

The man sighed heavily, keeping her arm in place and allowing his tongue to roll across his fangs as if he were observing this for the first time in his life. After this was accomplished, he frowned, "Hmm, yeah, guess I do. You still wanna stake me?" He cocked his head daringly, releasing her hand and stepping back, crossing his arms as he allowed a heavy sigh to escape his lips. "Well? You got me, you gonna stake me? You know damn well I'm not a vampire. I don't have the shiny yellow eyes," he pointed upward. "And I can't really say I've got much as far as the taste 'n blood's concerned. Actually, blood's pretty nasty. Look, you're busy, I know... I can just... leave if I'm intruding?"

"No... go on, I'm game," Faith said breathlessly, reaching both hands up in a defensive stance. "We can do this however you want. First, I get to ask you what the hell you are."

"My mommy told me never to speak with strangers... sooo... I don't think we'll be talkin' much more. Sorry, babe," the creature began to back away slowly, but Faith clued in faster than he had expected her to. She dropped to the ground immediately and slid her leg out and, with one fell-swoop, she caused the creature to fall smack to the pavement on his back.

"Well then maybe I should talk with your mommy," Faith quipped angrily. She stood above him and placed a foot on his chest, as if that were actually enough pressure to hold him still. "Don't squirm, it hurts less," she added. "What am I supposed to call you, hmm? Hey you? Idiot with fangs?"

"It's Zaren," he said slowly- angrily, letting out a distraught groan. "...'s everything you ever need to know about me. Got that?" His hands clapped around her lower thigh and he pulled her to the ground as well with a quick jolt of his hands. Then, with inhuman speed, he was towering over the fallen slayer as well. "Didn't your Watcher ever teach you not to let down your guard?" He shook his head, letting out a snort and beginning to walk off. His last comment, however, grabbed Faith's attention. This _thing_ knew she was a Slayer? Granted she was pretty well-known around these parts... it still irked her. To Faith, it seemed this creature was a bit too well-informed.

"Right-O, Z-man," Faith called after him. "So what are you then? Some emo-band freak looking for his place in the world?"

Zaren froze, obviously angered by this comment for some unspoken reason. He turned his head slowly so that in the shadows, his deep green eyes reflected in a very menacing manner towards hers. "You're not ready for me yet," he said deviously. "I just made a mistake."

It was safe to say... this demon happened to have Faith's curiosity sparked.

---

_Flight 333. Rome, Italy to Lhasa, Tibet. 5/4/04 06:00:09_

"I never stopped keeping track of them," Willow spoke to the piece of paper in her hands while she nervously ran her fingers across the faces of the people in the photo. "I-I mean, there was a while I was so angry with you..." she inhaled sharply, closing her eyes for a few moments to regather her thoughts. "...and a bit with the time that Tara- but I never stopped completely," the redhead argued, brushing her finger across one face in particular. "I was so convinced that we were meant to meet at a different place and a different time- but now we have to... aaa-and I'm just so scared," she whispered. 

It was funny, really. Willow was more than the average self-proclaimed wiccan now. She was an accomplished witch with powers comparable thus far to no other. It was hard to believe she had come such a long way from the high school bookworm (and slight self-proclaimed loser) she had once been. Yet in all her light and glory, stirring up a nervous conversation with an aging photograph was the best her will would allow for her to do at this moment. Her nerves were not settled by the food provided on the aircraft, either. "I wish the circumstances were different," she added as her throat tightened a bit and caused her to choke slightly on her words. "I wish we didn't _need_ you. We shouldn't be dragging you into this. I wish _I_ needed you... but I don't." This is what she kept telling herself, at least. Since when was it legal to be this nervous?

--

"Mister Oz?" A young voice announced its presence before the meditating young man. Known to many around there, he was also a werewolf. He was dressed in all white which was quite the new look for him, but he had to admit it felt rather refreshing. "There's a woman here to see you," she giggled. "She says it's important."

Oz kept his eyes closed. He had picked up her scent miles away, but he did not want to believe that she had finally seeked him out. How long had it taken? Why was she here? Why now? There had to be a reason- a purpose... a problem. "Okay," Oz replied simply to the young girl who raced off to retrieve the visiting witch.

When Willow stepped into the room, Oz turned slowly around to face her, his eyes moving up to meet hers. There was an awkward silence for the longest time, and Willow actually felt herself turning red in both embarrassment and fear. 

For a while, Oz doubted what he saw before him. He knew it was her, though, every single one of his senses confirmed that. In the beginning, he simply believed his nose was playing tricks on him. All of this was brought into the light, however, when he felt her form standing behind him, nervous and petrified as ever. He had not sensed such fear from the redhead in quite some time, and it nearly tore him to pieces. Since when did he become an object of pain? A beacon of sorrow? The man slowly turned his head to meet her cowering green eyes. The silence lasted too long, and whistling of the wind seemed to fill the emptiness as it pounded the door unforgivingly. Neither of the two figures had words to say, and this proved to be a problem. At long last, the man clad in white robes straightened up and cleared his throat. He never was one to speak more than necessary, but now... now _was_ necessary. "Willow. You look good."

---

_**Rome **__Three Months and some hours earlier..._

"Buffy, why don't you understand? I've stood by your side in times that even the strongest people would run away- I've done more for you than you give me credit for, and dammit- I was there, still, on your side when your boyfriend turned evil and started to terrorize and torture-"

"Angel." Buffy shook her head, a rolling of her eyes accompanying said action as well. She let out a finalizing huff of disbelief, "It's always gotta be about Angel, doesn't it? I-I mean... that is what it all boils down to, isn't it? After all these years, Angel can still make your skin crawl just like the jealousy of a stupid high school boy. You just can't accept the fact that I'm-"

"Blind?" Xander cut in coldly. The man stared at Buffy for a good long time, ensuring that he had straightened up to look down with the best of the ability as his one eye could muster into hers. "You just think that everything is going to be alright now? You can start having affairs with another vampire, that it? A normal human being doesn't have enough 'umph' for you? For your information, Buffy, this was never about Angel."

"H-Hey guys, I don't think anyone's really using the I-statements here... I think maybe we should-"

"Willow, shut up," Xander and Buffy snapped at the redhead in unison. Both were fuming now, acting quite similar to children.

"Ooooh-kay... I can take a hint. I'll just be over in the corner if anyone needs me, ya know? I'll just work on t-the _not _holding a grudge thing."

"You jealous now? That it, Xander? After all this time and you still can't drop the stupid hatred for Angel?"

"I'm long over that. You know, I kind of accept the fact that he's in charge of some worldwide-evil hootinanny. Serves him just fine! What _I_ don't get is why you keep falling back on the comfort of corpses to keep you company? Angel ended peachy-" He rolled his eye. Did she still cry in her sleep? "And Spike, well... can't say he ended too well neither- great job you did with him. So, are we... I dunno, catching on to some sorta pattern here?" Xander inquired with a raised brow, using hand gestures to assist in his explanation, "Cause, you know, you can stop me at any time if you get confused."

Buffy shook her head, "Are you ever gonna stop bashing me about the choices I make?"

"Bashing you? When have I ever bashed you? I've been with you-"

"Oh don't even start with the noble-man act. Ever since I turned you down you've always been a complete jerk when it comes to the choices I make."

"Excuse me?" Xander stared at her in disbelief, "Buffy, for once get _off _of your high horse and listen to yourself. This has nothing to do with you and me!"

"Doesn't it?"

"We're not getting into this again. I've already ran this by you time and time over. When you're sitting here," he pointed to the couch, "Curled up in the dimming candlelight, cold and alone once again... I don't wanna hear it. I don't wanna be the first to know about your problems or how you have no idea what to do with your life and how you'll never solve them. I'm sick of sitting around and watching you wallow in your self pity," he snapped, pointing at her in accusation, "I did a pretty good job of that already. I'm sick of hearing it! I should be allowed special pension for the work I do!"

"Work you do? Remind me, Xander, exactly what kind of 'work' you actually do," Buffy glared up at him in challenge, hoping that perhaps the man would falter- but he held his ground, showing no signs of weakness or surrender.

"More work than some. For being '_THE Chosen One'_... you really don't care too much about the future of this planet, do you, Buffy? You fought the big battle and now you think it's all over? No more pain? No more suffering or monsters? WRONG! You can sit here and elope with the demons of the Vatican," Xander quipped, "Enjoy it. After all, you really did earn it, didn't you? No big deal, really. Just make sure Faith stays in Cleveland, Giles, Dawn, Vi, Rona, Molly, Chole and Chao-Ahn keep the slayer sanctuary and the Council going and Willow keeps the Coven steady, and you've just got it all made, don't you? You don't even have to lift a finger, because if you did it would be a strain on the 'Oh so powerful' Slayer." Xander shook his head, "Do you even know the names of all those potentials? All the ones you so readily threw into hopeless battles? If I had them standing in front of me... could you now actually identify them individually? Or are they still just pawns to you?"

"I did the best I could with what I was given..." Buffy tried hard to keep her composure as Xander slipped the names off his tongue with absolutely no difficulty. Even now, Buffy was not even so sure that she would be able to get all of the Potentials' names correct just like that. Some leader she was, just sending those 'pawns' out to the front lines. They were not pawns, they were human beings, and it crushed her to have had to make the choices... the choices that led them to their bitter end or changed who they were completely. It was not fair. Then again, life had never been fair to her, so that was of no consequence. "Xander..." Buffy said quietly after long last, "What are we arguing about?"

"The choices you make," Xander's firm voice held no remorse for her pitiful state at the time. "Where you sit back and screw vampires when the rest of us are out there trying to ensure a future for this planet. When we're left behind to pick up the pieces. I was a fool to think you still cared. So, unlike you, I'm going to go out there now. I'm going to make a difference and people are finally gonna realize what I've done for this world. I'm done tailing you and being your watchdog. You don't need me anymore." With that, Xander headed for the door.

He was stopped, however, by Buffy's weakened voice, "Where will you go?" This was not happening! She _did_ need him! She always needed him!

Xander placed his hand on the knob and refrained from turning it for a few moments. Then he finally said dryly, "Giles will know where I am."

---

_If you question Wood- you'll see. And yes, I do hope the last part here makes some people want to slap certain character(s)._


	3. One Step Away

**Unbidden**

_The Lore of a Demonic Pretension_

**Notes**: See Chapter One if you want to read Disclaimer/Summary and all that crap. **YES**, this chapter is 'Mostly Filler' so sorry if it disappoints. Thank you for encouraging me to continue. Like I said, I will not abandon, I'm just very busy.

**Current Beta**: I love Danielle! Yay!

**Chapter Three: One Step Away**

_USA- Los Angeles, CA. 5/5/04 09:08:08_

Angel rested his head in his hands and groaned. This was all too much to handle, not to mention that that stupid trip to Rome had been, needless to say, all for nothing. His mind was still having problems wrapping around the whole concept of the Immortal's _seduction_. It had to be seduction, right? Buffy would never _do_ something like...

The Immortal! The nerve of that vampire.

"Still wallowin' in your self pity?"

Angel, in light of his frustration, slapped himself inwardly for not hearing the vampire enter his office. How careless of him. Either way, he was unwelcome right now. Come to think of it, when was he _ever_ welcome? "Go away, Spike."

"Don't think I will," he provoked with a dark smirk. "Blue'n I got a bit bored so I decided... what better a way to spend my afternoon than pesterin' my most favorite grandsire... of all time?"

Angel's blood started to boil slightly. He meant _only _grandsire. What a ham. It was a pity that Spike had to come in and ruin his session of brooding. After all, he was actually on a roll right now. See, there were many intellectual stages of the brooding process. He perhaps had reached the third level by now and was teetering onto the fourth until this interruption. It was what one might actually consider to be an actual breakthrough! "What do you want?"

"I don't get paid enough." When Angel finally rose his head to glare at the bleached-blonde vampire, Spike raised his hands in defense, "Whaaat? Right, fine," Spike sighed. "Bloody prick Hamilton wants to see you. Said somethin' about it bein' all important apocalypse stuff."

"Tell him I'm dead," Angel muttered, laying his head on the desk now. He really did not care what Spike thought of him or his brooding habits. It did not matter anymore.

"You know, I would... but it's just not all that convincin' of an excuse for you. You're dead and you look it." Spike raised a brow suggestively, offering that up as the best compliment he could muster at the moment. Well, it was more of an insult, but it was not like Angel could tell the difference half the time anyway.

Angel huffed, rolling his eyes, "Why doesn't he just walk in? It's not like he's ever asked to walk in on me before. Come to think of it, do people even know how to knock any more?"

"Well maybe," Spike started in an annoying tone, "He's decided he's been a terribly horrible poof and now he really wants to redeem himself. He's very very sorry for all the bloody wrongs he's done.. Now he wants to change and become a better man. He's lookin' for redemption. Maybe there's a woman involved. Figures he'd start maybe... by sendin' the village vamp out to run messages for him like a... wait a second..." The blonde vampire snorted at his own playful explanation and when he got a nasty glare from Angel, Spike held up his hands once again, "Okay! I'm leavin'..." He turned around and began to walk away, but then he whirled around and pointed a finger at Angel, "...About that raise?" Angel's icy glare caused him to raise an eyebrow mockingly. "Right then. I'll just leave you to your lonesome."

"About time," Angel muttered as soon as Spike walked out. This was starting to get to him- there were still no leads on the impending apocalypse of doom. At least they had succeeded in draining Illyria's powers. That was a relief. It seemed that she were nothing more than a walking time bomb, ready to explode when they least- nah. Wait- what? "Who're you and how'd you get in here?"

"Lemme see that," Zaren said simply, snatching a paper from Angel's desk and peering at it with an inquired raised brow. "So you can make fine works of art, yet you draw stick-sickly-lookin' rhinos?"

"That's a Triceratops."

Zaren's mouth formed into a big 'Oh' and he set the paper down slowly. "Look, Angel, is it? _Vampire with a Sou_/, right? I mean- I didn't hit up the wrong Wolfram and Hart, now did I? That'd be a terrible mistake- you know. You don't look like him, actually. I thought he'd be much taller in person... not to mention you look all... we'll skip that part," Zaren sighed heavily, hopping off his desk and sticking his hands in his pockets. "Now, I hope you'll forgive the intrusion, really- but I've got a slight problem."

"And that would be...?"

"Well, errr... does something with an A that ends with an E and have... pocalyps...sss..sss-" he furrowed his brows as he spat out the last part. He shook his head, shrugging it off and cleared his throat, "Yeah- well, does 'impending apocalypse' mean anything to you?"

"I don't even know who you are, how you got into my office."

"I followed the bleached one," Zaren leaned his elbow onto Angel's desk now and stared the vampire uncomfortably in the eyes. "I'm slightly hurt that you don't even recognize me, Angelus. We need to talk. Not here, not now. I have somethin' that might interest you. If you're squeemish or a mama's boy... you can always bring a friend. I don't bite," Zaren eyed the room carefully and rose from the desk. He had somehow managed to circle the 1:00 slot on that page. "That's AM," Zaren said carefully. "Back alley of Lorne's old place. Hasta luego," he smirked and shot off.

---

Fred always had that sort of smile. The clueless smile that indicated that she knew absolutely nothing about what was going on, but that would not stop her from giving it her all or contributing one-hundred percent of her knowledge to help the cause for love of the team. Her unfortunate experiences in Pylea had done nothing to help her flawed sociality skills, but she was truly amazing. The moment he met her he knew she was a special one, and she was strong. He had just 'won' her back, if that is what one would call it. Wesley was not meant to be a happy man, however. He should have had the brains to know that it would never have been able to last. She would never smile again. Wesley did not understand this... she was supposed to be strong.

This called for another sip. The former watcher and ex-rogue-demon hunter set the glass down and paused a moment, waiting for things to become blurry again. They were always so much better that way, because then you did not have to try to tell the difference between right and wrong... or up or down. You would not be punished for it, just blame it on the booze.

His father's unreachable expectations started his chain of failures at a young age. Wesley had always been just that- a failure. He had failed at being a watcher, seeming as his one charge had ended up as a convicted murderer, not to mention siding for the bad guys for a while. He was not even good enough to help her through redemption. Angel and Buffy had given her a second chance when he had tossed her aside. He was a failure at being a son, a failure at being a watcher. Why had he even thought for one second that he could possibly have a chance with Fred? His life could be read just like a fairy tale, but without the happy ending.

He needed more. The glass was half empty now.

What would he call his relationship with Lilah? At first, he just wanted to reap benefits. He wanted to feel something, get inside her and hey, perhaps relieve some stress... oh, but wait. He skipped a few years. That's right. He was cast away from the Angel Investigation team because of his incompetence as a loyal friend. He had sold Angel out in a rather unforgivable manner. He had taken the one thing the vampire with a soul had going for him in a long time- his child. Yes, he did send Connor into a hell-dimension and get his throat cut in one night. That had to be a record. Not to mention that his friends abandoned him. Then again, were they friends at all? Ah, this is where his social failure came in.

He stared at the liquid, swishing it around in his hand. Where was Illyria now?

He beheaded Lilah. Even after he did that, he could not save her from the contract that bound her to Wolfam and Hart because it extended beyond her death. Was that what lies in store for him upon his death? Would he always be a slave to the enthralling darkness that continued to loom above his head? He had been nothing more than a mutt... a dog to his father, to the council, a puppet to the law firm. Wesley promised himself, however, that the last thing he would do would be to turn around and run away with his tail between his legs. He was supposed to be strong now, because Fred would not be able to be.

That's what whiskey was created for. With it, he never had to turn around like a lost puppy. Illyria had driven him compulsively mad. He had to remind himself a hundred times that you could never bargain with a former demon god. If they survived this impending doom that was so evidently obvious... _if they survived_, Wesley knew what he had to do. He could read the signs... he had to find a way to destroy Illyria for good. Right now, she was no threat. She would be though, she would be. Not anymore.

At this thought, Wesley began to laugh uncontrollably after he downed his glass. How comical his life was!

---

"I love you. I will _always _love you... but this is the work I have to do."

Why was time always of the essence? How come the portal was tearing at the world around it and monsters were just seeping from the energy explosion- bent on destroying the place she had called home? They were not meant to be in this dimension. This is the work she had to do- to stop the demons. Stop the evil. No matter what the costs. She had never signed a paper or argued her overworked and underpaid philosophy to her boss, and this was partially because her 'boss' was a tweed-clad Englishman with more knowledge and wisdom than she could even comprehend. Where was Giles? There was an emptiness. It seemed like he had been missing, like he was sucked away from the whole setting.

It was different this time; Buffy found herself standing before Angel... not Dawn. Instead of standing atop some crazy-person-built tower, she was on a building, about twenty stories up. The portal was there. She still knew she had to jump- but the events were jumbled. She was so confused, but the words continued to spill out- they had ran through her head time and time again like a repeating record. They were imprinted into her mind. This was always a lasting memory that would forever haunt her ever since she had been hurled back into this world. For some reason, though, _Angel _was here... but it had never before been this clear. Crystal clear. Not until now.

"Tell Giles ... tell Giles I figured it out. A-and I'm okay." Where was he? What made her so worried about Giles? Her gut clenched, "And give my love to my friends. You have to take care of them now." Angel... taking care of her friends? That in itself was clearly a joke. Not to mention, did she even have any friends left? Xander hated her... Willow ran off without notice... the others were scattered across the world. All that was left was, as Whistler had once told her, herself. She was all she had. "You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong. Angel... the hardest thing in this world ... is to live in it." Buffy winced inwardly. She had always hated that line.

The last words only echoed in her mind, however, since she was unable to choke them out. 'Be brave. Live. For me.' Live? How on Earth would Angel _live_?

Angel seemed to be ignoring her words completely. He had stopped listening halfway through as if he had a new case of ADD and this caused a wave of frustration to wash over her. "I have to do this!" She screamed, trying to get him to pay attention- to _do_ something! _Say something..._ she begged him silently. She wanted to know that he cared, "Angel...?"

"Alright, Lover."

Buffy's eyes widened as she began to back up slowly. She was petrified at what stood before her. It was not the vampire she had grown to love, no... it was the demon mask, right? He would come back. He would not come back, not before her time ran out. She had to jump. She had to save humanity before the portal widened and tore into this world indefinitely. Hell on Earth would be unleashed unless she did something.

But that was not her Angel. To her it mattered... but to the world, it did not matter, there was no time to gamble with people's lives. The last thing she saw before she whipped around and dove into the portal- giving up her very being so that others may live... was the silhouette of Angelus- sneering distastefully at her; his fangs at the ready.

Buffy awoke suddenly, shuddering at the intense realistic feeling that quivered through her body. Why did that happen? Why now? "It was just a nightmare," she continuously told herself. Instead of shaking now, she settled for cracking up into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Yes, she was simply overtired. "It wasn't real. Not even close."


	4. Will We Fall Together?

**Unbidden**

_The Lore of a Demonic Pretension_

**Notes**: See Chapter One if you want to read Disclaimer/Summary and all that Jazz. I had a little problem writing this chapter, so sorry if it doesn't meet standards... the plot soon should be worth it, though! Quick reminder. This takes place right after The Girl in Question (Angel Season 5) but before Power Play and NFA. If I have dates wrong, I'll fix them later. Promise. 

I want to say thanks quickly to everyone that's reviewed and asked me to update as well. Honestly, that's mainly what got me back into the story. I'm back and scarier than ever so be petrified! All you readers rock!

**Current Beta**: Danielle who rocks my world.

**I am looking for:** another beta. If you are familiar with BtVS and AtS and want to help me improve this stoy, pm me asap please. You must be good with character speech and plot developmenty-stuff. Yeah. 

**Chapter Four: Will We Fall Together (or Apart)?**

The frazzled man looked over at Kumani and let out a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry about all of this, I... I didn't mean for things... to get so messed up."

"No, no- I have understanding, Mister Harris," the woman held her composure, straightening up to her full height which, ironically enough, was just a few hairs above Xander's. "There are choices sometimes that have made themselves for us. Life continues without fairness, it is... unable to be predicted. To fight for the good is not easy."

"Yeah, no kidding," Xander offered the woman a soft smile. He thought she a pretty good master of putting her thoughts into words, even though English was far from her native language. In a way, it was almost artistic how she managed to say things that people in general even had hard times expressing in words. Xander was just glad that he hadn't been asked to learn anything new language wise while he was out here. He had a hard enough time figuring out French... well actually... he didn't think he ever managed to figure out French.

Ha. Willow. What would she be thinking about him right now? Xander liked to think he had come pretty far from when he had left Rome a few months earlier. 'His' slayer was coming along quite fine as well, if he could say so himself. Xander was not exactly one to be calling himself a watcher. He seemed to equate the term with some stuffy englishman adorned in tweed. It was a bit difficult to get that imagery out of his head so instead he settled for a very simple and highly official title of... 'Xander.' Yeah. He had tried on quite a few different titles for size (including the Man of the Hour and Head of the Operation, gosh even Master Cyclops). In the end, he just kept coming up with Jimmy Olsen puns from left field to degrade said titles, and decided he might as well give it up. He was who he was, there was never a need to put on an act with Xander. He was upfront with himself and who he supported and the man did not think he would be changing any time soon. 

"Wow. Where'd you pick this one up?" Dawn asked, looking up at Xander while she readjusted her purse strap on her shoulder and shifted her weight. "S-She's not a demon too, is she?" Dawn pursed her lips as she joked, knowing full well about Kumani's status as a slayer but unable to resist the urge of teasing Xander about his typical uncanny ability to hook up with demonic women.

Xander chuckled, "Ah, Dawnie. You've been minding your 'professors' lately, or have you dropped out to become a rugged, yet renegade hero from behind the scenes just like me?" 

"Actually," Dawn shrugged, "We got blown up. I mean... first it was Sunnydale High- twice. Now the training institution. Some higher powers seem to have decided that school and learning just wasn't meant for me. I find that everywhere I tread, bombs explode. ...Cool, huh?" She offered Xander one of her cheesy smiles, but cleared her throat quickly after. "But uhm. You don't think Giles is..."

"No. Gosh no..." Xander shook his head immediately, dismissing that sort of thinking on all fronts and trying to rid the air of any grim sort of dark scenario.

"But Xander, they killed all the slayers that were there. How do you kill a roomfull of slayers?" Dawn's voice wavered and cracked as she spoke.

"Gee. Let me think..." Xander crossed his arms, "Like sissies? Whatever this 'new evil' is, they're not your signature 'I'll scratch you to death with my rusty nail' demons. They've finally incorporated the wonders of nuclear explosions into their vast array of armaments. I mean, the heavy artillery is hardly classic." The man seemed to pause and bask in the moment for a bit, "Geeze, I miss those days when we really only needed to worry about intense neck trauma and getting stabbed with pitchforks (I never thought I'd say that). Technology has come so far..." Xander shrugged, "Need I also remind you, they didn't find any loose body parts. We have reason to suspect that nobody was hurt at all, even..."

"Right," Dawn replied a bit shakily. Though that was something she wanted to believe, the subject was not something she wanted to adhere to. "S-So what changed your mind? I thought you were going to stay in Africa for a while... you know, become established?" Dawn tilted her head.

"They really didn't tell you anything, did they, Dawnie?" Xander asked, slightly confused.

Dawn looked away for a second, as though taking this time to regain a somewhat 'mature' sort of composure, and then she looked back into Xander's eyes. "My uhm... my orders... were pretty clear. And um... really, there wasn't time for questions," she said quickly, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. "But hey- I got wheels!" She added as an afterthought, flashing Xander a smile. "Let's get your luggage and we'll just-"

"No luggage. Usually when one is given ten minutes to prepare, one also tends to travel light," Xander pulled the backpack from his back and smacked it lightly with his hand. "Besides. Most of my stuff is still here... unless Buffster decided to burn it all or something..." Xander smirked. "And, if that be the case, I think I have a few more issues to deal with other than the urgent ones I was sent here for..." Xander cleared his throat, "Okay but... you're driving? ... Oh dear, God."

---

The silence in the air only seemed to thicken the atmosphere. In fact, the silence was reminiscent of the barriers Willow had used to slow down Glory back in the days of Sunnydale and all of its amusing apocalypses. Willow, at long last, reached her hand up to her arm and rubbed it nervously, "Uh. Y-you look good too," Willow swallowed meeting Oz's eyes, "N-not that you were ever not good looking- but you look good today... as many other days and-"

"Willow," Oz cut her off before she got to rambling. Perhaps he remembered her a bit too well, but there was no reason to have her rambling on because of him, nope. Oz wasn't looking straight at her anymore, instead, he was looking out into the distance. The witch was here for a reason, and Oz was pretty certain it didn't involve some sort of friendly cappuccino and a random board game. The man let out a heavy sigh and shook his head while selecting his words carefully. If the rumors he had heard were true... "It's too late."

"T-Too late? No, I don't think you understand, Oz," Willow pleased softly. "It's not. We can still stop this- it's-"

"Prophecized?" Oz inquired, raising a brow and returning his gaze to the woman again. "Willow, it's already begun."

"B-But it hasn't, Oz. It hasn't and... and we need you now. I..." Willow swallowed the lump that was lingering unforgivingly in her throat, "I... we can't do this alone. A-and you have people out here that trust you, Oz. That believe in you... and I still believe." Willow's pleading became more and more desperate. When Oz shook his head slowly, preparing to open his mouth, Willow cut him off. "The Oz I knew-"

"I've changed," Oz said simply.

"No you haven't! There you go again... brief a-and concise with... with all your stoic-ness!" Willow pointed a finger at him. When his expression remained unchanged, Willow continued her lecture, "You stoicy... person, you! See? Oz, you haven't changed! And I know deep down inside, you know how important this is- you knew I'd be coming and... and y-you always said we'd meet again and I... I always thought you would... I never thought you wouldn't be interested in helping. It's an apocalypse, Oz. We're good at those."

"We _were_," Oz pointed out, emphasizing the past tense with his brief answer. 

"You're not gonna go all quitty on me now!" Willow pleaded, "We need you. This... this thing is bigger than anything we've ever faced before-"

"Even high school?" Oz quipped, tilting his head slightly and raising his brow once more. Though his tones didn't seem to vary much (normal versus sarcastic), there was still a slight hint of amusement in the young man's voice as he asked, reminding Willow that yes, this _was_ the same old Oz. The signature expression on his face allowed many to perceive him as outwardly cool, while he was still intellectually conflicted. How Oz-like he was.

This little comment brought a smile to Willow's face, "See? There's the Oz I know!"

"I'm... in control now," Oz explained hastily. "You always brought it out in me... but I control it now," he explained, remembering when they had talked about this prior to his leaving. "The power, it's..." the man tried to search for a good adjective to explain said power, but instead settled for, "Oddly comforting." He did not want to mention that the power made him feel superior in a manner or something like that because, although it did? That wasn't something you particularly wanted to bring up in a conversation with your ex. "But... I need to know. How can _I _help?"

--

"I'm not here to talk, not in the mood to and not really planning on staying long, either," Angel spoke brisquely, not willing to take crap from anybody- especially a shady character that claimed to know him prior to their little meeting. It was bad enough that Wolfram and Hart was all over his back and he was treading on thin ice and being monitored there, he did not need anything suspicious breaking his path and causing his plans to fall out of line now. "If you're here to help, then fine. Give me your information and leave my city. Otherwise? Well, there reeeeally is no otherwise," Angel narrowed his eyes, barely restraining himself from slamming the man into the dumpster behind him. "So spill, okay? I'm not feeling too generous right now."

"Oh and uhm, he's bloody serious too, y'know," Spike added his two cents with an amused smile, crossing his arms over his chest. Really, the man was here for no reason other than the fact that yes, he was fairly bored. A little stroll with Angel, surprisingly enough, rated rather high on his to-do list. The alternative was video games with Illyria, but Spike wanted to get out of the Wolfram and Hart building. He did not quite fancy the feeling of being watched twenty-four seven, and the place seemed to be getting to him lately.

"Uh...huh," Zaren studied the two vampires with vague interest and then rubbed the back of his neck, as though he were slightly nervous. Both vampires would easily be able to tell, however, that this was just a feigned attempt. Why he bothered to try when both beings could basically sense 'fear' was anyone's guess, but he tried. "First off, Angelus-"

"It's Angel now," the dark-haired man cut in.

"Whatever. Let's put all the semantics aside, pal. I could call you whatever floats my boat, 's all the same. That ain't why I'm here-"

"Then why_are _you here, mate?" Spike cut in, just adding to the conversation really for the heck of it.

"Because it came to my attention that you two idiots traipsed off to Rome recently. In the middle of an impending apocalypse, nonetheless. Not that I blame you. What, with the Immortal and Buffy and-"

"What do you know about Buffy?" Both vampires asked simultaneously.

"Besides the fact that she's totally got you trippin?' Eh. Her watcher- or is he ex-watcher now...? Never mind that, the Brit's been spying on you guys. Well, err... Wolfram and Hart in particular but... well, you seem to be a part of that package, doncha think? I mean... with Wolfram and Hart comes Angel, eh? It's kinda cute how you thought you could spy on _her_ and succeed, though. Really. Or were you forgetting that she has a witch with a full arsenal AND the entire Coven on her side, hmm? All you pathetic deadbeats have are a few minimum-wage shamans and some psychopathic reichor demons..."

"Still waiting for a point, here... maybe you telling me why I care would help..." Angel said slowly with a bored expression donning his face.

"Well, likely because while you're fighting the good fight? Or, well... the evil fight in your case? Her little gang of friends may or may not see through your little stunts. Let's just say that if hurricane Buffy enters the scene with a handful of slayers and crossbows? I'm not so sure you can wager your unlife on their willingness to help you out..."

"Tell me something I'm not already aware of," Angel added in a low tone. The man knew it was likely that the next encounter they had with Buffy might be slightly... strained... but he had not actually thought she would be paying attention to this particular apocalypse. Not to mention, if she did help, would she trust him?

"Just saying. Something to think about, Angelus. I know I wouldn't trust you."

"If Buffy's smart, she'll stay out of this," Angel tacked on, not bothering to bat an eye at the use of 'Angelus' yet again.

"The world's ending, Angelus. Do you really think she will?" Zaren quirked a brow. "Just keep your eyes open. Oh. One more thing... Cordelia was your window to the past. Not to get all cliché on you or anything? But if you're visited by three ghosts? Don't be too surprised and pay attention... cause they _won't _be hallucinations. Or... I think that's how it goes. Unless we translated the Sumerian wrong.."

"I knew it!" Spike chimed in. "Angel's a scrooge. 'Bout time someone taught him some Christmas spirit. Ponce never did share a good kill when he had one, 'specially not on-"

"Spike," Angel narrowed his eyes. Before either vampire could get in another word, however, the shadow of the creature that had called them out here had already disappeared.

"Great. So now what, we go for some hot cocoa? I'm dying for those little marshmallows..."

Angel rolled his eyes and brushed past Spike, starting the walk back toward their office building in Wolfram and Hart. As if things weren't already bad enough...

--

"Wait, so you trust Spike more than Angel?" a feminine voice on the other end of the phone asked in slight confusion.

"N-No, well... maybe. I don't know. That's not the point," Buffy said slowly, "All I wanna say is... we can't rule anything out just yet. What do we have to go on? What sort of _concrete_ evidence have we actually managed to compile here?" Buffy asked firmly. "I-I'm not convinced I have a full story- you guys are keeping something from me, or something." Buffy closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, regaining her composure. It was bad enough she was having strange nightmares as of late. This meeting with a coven member wasn't exactly helping her situation much. While styling her lavender silk pajamas, Buffy got up and paced in front of her bed, looking back over at the shadow that was her contact. 

"There's really nothing much to keep. Angel's been becoming more and more dangerous from our records. He has been throughout the course of the year..."

"Dangerous _how?_" Buffy asked. "I-In what manner is he dangerous?" The woman couldn't help her voice from wavering slightly at this revelation. It was certainly something Buffy didn't like to hear and, in all honesty? When Buffy wasn't keen on hearing something, she had a tendency to use selective hearing. "A-And if that's so, _why_is Spike still trusting him? Look- I don't know about you, but I find it hard to believe that both vampires will have managed to crack like that. They've both got souls... and I don't need to remind you that they've both helped in countless apocalypses. Why would this one be any different?"

"Perhaps because they blew up an institution full of slayers?"

Buffy's eyes widened and her jaw went slack. "They _what_?"


	5. Pangs of Familiarity

**Pangs of Familiarity**

_**Rome**__- cont'd_

That was not a possibility, not in Buffy's mind. How could both of the rogue vampires with souls fall into the void of evil? No, they had been searching the right path for too long- it was unlike them to go diving into the deep end! Besides, it did not make sense for both of them to blow up an institution of _slayers_. No, that would mean they had betrayed not only all they had worked for, but they would have betrayed HER. That was just a little much for Buffy to believe.

"Buffy, this is not the first time one of our institutions have been destroyed in this manner. The Watcher's council was blown up just before your triumph in Sunnydale, remember? We lost many good men- good watchers!" The voice on the phone reminded her with painful remorse. Truth be told, this was not something Buffy wanted to have on her mind right now, but things were all coming back full-swing... and no matter how many apocalypses happened to cross their path, it seemed as though the gang was never fully prepared.

"You still have not told me how this could possibly have anything to do with Angel or Spike," Buffy reasoned, still standing her ground.

"Angel attempted to make contact with Giles not more than a few weeks previous- he was asking about the whereabouts of Willow," the coven head informed Buffy. There was a brief pause, and the woman continued, "Giles refused to make any association at all with Wolfram & Hart. Since that point, the awakening of an Old One has been confirmed... and it resides under the roof of the LA branch of Wolfram & Hart."

Forget Buffy was not well-read on her past scriptures and the interpretations of some so-called "Old Ones," this sounded to her as though it was a lot of circumstantial-based arguments with no grounds to them. "I don't-" Buffy started, only to get interrupted.

"Why else would an Old One be awakened if not to mobilize for the destruction of the world? If you were going to destroy the world, what would you target first?" The coven officer inquired. "Ms Summers, this really is simple math. Wolfram & Hart is lead by Angel. The corporation just got one heck of a lot stronger and a dark aura lingers over the office- which can only mean there has been another induction into the Circle of Black Thorn."

"You are wrong," Buffy responded with certainty, not even stopping to think of the possibilities and factor in the fact that Angel had all of the ingredients and opportunities necessary to perform such an action at his fingertips. Whatever this "Circle of Black Thorn" happened to be, it did not sound like something that her former fellow vampires would get themselves mixed up in. "Spike and Angel aren't behind any of this, I just can't believe they've changed that drastically. I mean... they're vampires, sure... but they have souls," Buffy pointed out. This argument did not seem to sway her contact away from the accusation she had made, however.

"Well, they HAD souls. Have you seen either one of them recently to even confirm that? Could it be possible the alternative has happened? We both know how good Angelus happens to be at losing his-"

"Stop. Just... just stop," Buffy interjected firmly. There was no doubt that this woman was just slicing her now where it hurt. "Unless you have grounds for your accusations, I suggest you look for alternative suspects. That would be time better spent!" With that, Buffy terminated the call by slamming the receiver back onto the hook. She choked back the doubt and suspicion that was weighing in her throat. There was not a thing in the world that could calm her mind right now, there were too many questions. Nothing at this time made sense and all of her senses were on the edge.

The slayer jumped nearly a mile when she heard the gentle click of the door opening. All things considered, she snatched up a stake from her bedside table and stood in slaying position- she hadn't invited Spike or Angel into the apartment at all- but Andrew had said they had been around recently. She had to be on the alert and prepared for anything although, according to her calculations, it was highly improbable that either one would have come to face off with her in her own home.

Her eyes met the dark shadow in the hallway that could clearly be made out as a masculine figure. Buffy's stake fell to the floor with a clink-thud as her muscles relaxed. A passing car from outside had lit up the hallway with just enough brightness to illuminate the silhouette that was standing in her doorway. Buffy would know that figure anywhere- and boy was it a sight for sore eyes.

"Hey Buff," The voice said softly, as though the man were still trying to process what was going on. There was still time to make for the door and run like hell, but his instinct told him that he was not the only one that was needed here now.

Buffy said nothing for a moment, she just stood in the middle of her room basking in the silence- save for the racing of her heart from the temporary surprise- and the memories of a less confusing life throttling her brain. Things were always easier when she was in the company of her friends- when they had opinions and knowledge to offer her. Things were always easier in the company of, "... Xander," Buffy whispered, barely able to make out the syllables of his name. Wow, that sure felt good rolling off of her tongue. The slayer ran over to her Xander-shaped friend and locked him into an embrace that, if administered too long, was something that could easily turn a being purple.

"... Trying to breathe," Xander rasped out, while returning the hug with as much force as he could muster.

"Oh, sorry," Buffy apologized quickly, lightening up on her grip, but not letting the man free. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest. There was nothing like a familiar friend in this time of chaos. "Tell me it's really really you," Buffy said, the ease of mind sauntering through her voice.

"Yeah. It's really really me," Xander replied, letting out a heavy breath. For a moment he had been fearing for quite some time, this was certainly the polar opposite of what the man had prepared for. Regardless, there was little time to bask in the glories and faults of the past. "It's been too long," Xander said simply.

"Felt like decades," Buffy added on with an understanding tone. Even if it was only for a few seconds, Buffy felt completely secure when Xander relaxed his arms around her in the return of her over-exaggerated hug and this was a feeling she had not been familiar with for a long time now. "...a-and I am so sorry for all th-"

Xander sighed, gripped Buffy's shoulders and pushed her a short distance from him so he could look her in the eye. "Hey, look- all is forgiven," Xander reassured her. That slipped out much easier than he thought it would have. It was a funny thing, forgiveness. Just bucking up the courage to face the heat of the issue was enough to make most people buckle under the pressure. The hardest part had already hit- and Xander was all about leaving the past behind him. "I am here- hopefully back for a long time. We have a world to save, just tell me how I can help."

Buffy smiled, choking back tears of relief- this was certainly one thing that happened to go right today. It had felt as though the weight of the world itself had been lifted from her shoulders. "Make yourself at home," Buffy encouraged. Now the slayer could hopefully rest peacefully this evening.

**Lahasa, Tibet **_5/4/04 12:18:33_

"That's the thing," Willow said softly in response to Oz's question. Of course, reeling through her mind, there were many ways that Oz would be able to assist them. The most difficult thing that they were about to face, however, was the fact that the entire 'Scooby' Gang Plus was going in blind. "Oz, we don't even know what we are going to be dealing with." That certainly wouldn't be the answer that Oz seeked, that was for certain. Clarity in the event of an impending apocalypse, however, was practically written off as an oxymoron.

By this time, Willow was expecting Oz to decline the invitation to rejoin their band of apocalypse-fighting heroes based on the fact that she really did not have a purpose set in stone for the man. He was happy here- he had to be, he must be a highly revered power out here with his abilities and his determination to keep them in check. If he went back with her now, he would only be casting himself back into a thankless void- a world where the efforts of the slayer went practically unnoticed, because saving the world was a chore. What was she thinking to believe he would want to join in on such an excursion? "I... I really should get back," Willow said slowly, leaving an ample pause after the words were spoken to allow for interruption. When one was not made, Willow's eyes fell to the floor and she turned on her heel to leave. Willow reached out to grip the woodwork of the exit, disappointment keeling through her heart.

"Tell me something," Oz stated before Willow made it through the door frame. "I wanna know..." Oz continued, his tone was low and concerned, but there was a demanding air about his tone that broke on the edge of urgency, "Willow, what happened to you?"

At first, Willow was baffled at the question from the werewolf, but it only took her a few seconds to reconnect the wires in her brain that reminded her that- regardless of the man's silence- he was a keen observer. Her grip loosened from the framework of the exit and Willow's eyes retreated from the destination before her back down to the ground. Her throat, however, tightened and seemed to thicken, which made quite the difficulty for forming of sentences.

"I can't do this anymore, Oz..." Willow said very quietly, her voice beginning to waver slightly.

Oz finally moved from the position he had plastered himself in- the carefully planned few-meter distance he had chosen to maintain between them was broken in an instant. That was all it took from Willow, and Oz knew that he was going to be in this for the long haul- how could he not? She had come all this way searching for something. While Oz was uncertain what exactly it was, he knew that there was still good and unfinished business left to be done in his name. The young man reached down and grabbed Willow's wrist with such intensity that it almost caused the redhead to yelp. "Hey," there was a brief silence and Oz, shameful that he had to correct his action, loosened the grip he had made around her wrist, but did not remove his hand, "Don't leave... please, Willow."

The man couldn't help but wonder if, perhaps, things with the gang had just become overwhelmingly difficult. Maybe they were even confusing, and Oz believed that maybe what Willow was looking for was some thread of familiarity. Nothing was the same as it had been back when Sunnydale was still a recognizable city on a map- but now the gang had been split and spread. There was no doubt that changes had occurred in the witch's life... and as they built up over time, there was no saying what kind of pain and pressure that the team had endured. In a way, Oz was frustrated in himself for not being around for this, not being around to help. He hadn't a right to be interfering in their life now, or so he believed that was the case. "I'm with you," Oz said simply, completely releasing her wrist from his hand now and dropping the offending hand to his side. "I'm in," he reiterated in case she didn't quite get the meaning the first time around.

**USA- Los Angeles, CA**. _04:19:00_

Gunn was having his doubts. Lately, things had been becoming more and more intense and, though he tried his best to wean himself out of the equation of evil and back into the pockets of the good side... he still found himself in compromising positions. The man was uncertain about a lot lately, but his confidence had dropped tenfold since he discovered that he (well, in a sense, the entire crew) had become a part of the problem. Who would have thought that there was a catch with tons of little loopholes & tendrils just dying to choke you even after you sell your soul to the devil? Was that not punishment enough- offering up your soul? No, there had to be torture involved, naturally. Torture should have never involved the destruction of poor, innocent Fred.

There was one thing that the man knew for sure, however, and it was the fact that he would, without a doubt, go down swinging. That was his motto, after all. Besides, since when had he been meant to serve as some faux-lawyer with imprinted rubbish in that bald head of his? Nothing could erase all of the twists, turns, and roads he had taken to arrive at his current destination. Just as nothing could erase all of that, nothing was going to topple his sturdy foundation. No. Charles Gunn was a man of the moment and he knew that something big was about to stir up... and Gunn was determined to be in the middle of it.

The man thought of his communication with the conduit which had been... less than satisfactory. That should not matter, however, because Gunn was not going to be Wolfram & Hart's MVP. He did not need some enormous jungle cat- well, or the mirror image of himself for that matter- to give him answers. He knew that he had joined the forces of evil and gotten sucked in, he knew that it was his fault Fred was gone, he knew that their little band of heroes had been pushed to their limits & was slowly dwindling down to nothing, but most of all? Charles Gunn knew he had his past, his memories, and his integrity to get through this.

Faith laid in her bed. In most cases, she would have turned some television on by now, or hit the town to find something to occupy her day with, but she had chosen instead to stare up at the ceiling in a dazed manner. There were lots of pieces of the puzzle that did not fit together at this time, and it worried her. She felt completely disconnected from the rest of the Sunnydale crew, and that was really through no fault but her own. Giles checked in on her every once in a while to make sure no additional assistance should be deployed but, for the most part, Cleveland was a pretty quiet place. The hellmouth here was nothing like the one they dealt with in Sunnydale and, for some strange reason, the evil did not seem as hellbent on destroying the world. It was a shame really.

The slayer rolled onto her side and looked over at the wall of the motel room. For a split second, a memory played in the back of her mind as her eyes danced into a daze from the glare of the sun on the white plaster.

"C'mon, you can't do this to me!" Faith yelled down at the man who was propped up against that very wall. "Damn it, Robin- get up!"

Faith sprung back into the now, shook her head, and rose from the bed. It was high time she figured out why this Hellmouth was so silent. She needed to know who this mysterious visitor of the evening had been and, more importantly, it was time for her to get connected with the old gang again. "Grab those britches, England- cause here comes Faith."

_Sorry about the inconsistency of the dates, I need to fix those. Please just enjoy the story for story's sake, though and I will handle those (and some of the general issues with dividers/text from previous chapters) soon. I have to re-figure out how to work the updates now lol. I do intend to continue this story, as now I have newfound time to write again._


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